What do you get if you put Usain Bolt in an ice bath?

 

Luckily, and much to my relief, Lufthansa didn't strike on Sunday 9th, so I was able to fly back home. Although, when I say 'home', I actually spent all of about 3 hours there before driving down to London. According to Google Maps and my calculations, this totalled 774 miles in 6 hours worth of travelling, and I am considering this to be a new personal best.

When I got to the flat I watched the Closing ceremony of the Paralympics, before heading to bed an hour later than originally planned, due to accidently having reached the point of no return by tuning in to Channel 4+1 instead of Channel 4...

The morning was an early one, but, after a dramatic run for the train in a style that if it hadn’t been for my Games Maker uniform, I’m sure could have been mistaken for that of Usain Bolt, I was well and truly woken up.

I headed to Trafalgar Square to buy some breakfast and, after having made a Games Maker friend along the way and had John Inverdale come up to me to say thank you for my Games Maker-ing (one of my stronger starts to a day!), I went to Horse Guard's Parade to eat my Meal Deal fit for a Games Maker. (I would here mention the name of the Supermarket where said Meal Deal was purchased, but it is the major rival of the Supermarket which sponsored the Paralympics, so I'll be a responsible Games Maker and miss it out for LOCOG's sake...)

I spent the morning in the area around The Mall, before the police did a security sweep and we all had to wait outside the gates of 'Area 5' (the beach volleyball Games Makers were well acquainted with these areas, but the Wembley mopper experienced some minor orientation difficulties along the way). We were then joined by the rain and also by the Games Maker Legacy Choir, who sang Land of Hope and Glory on repeat for a while, before switching to lots of songs about loving London.

 

It was the first time after the Olympics that I'd been around lots of Games Makers, and, in true Games Maker style, the stories were flowing. I met a 'Brunel' from the Opening Ceremony and spoke with a woman who had given up 3 days of every week since February to help to organise the Ceremonies. The story of the day, however, came from someone who had worked on Events Services at one of the training venues which had been used before the Olympics.

This Games Maker had been working in the ice bath room during the Jamaican team pre-Olympics ice bath session. Usain Bolt and Blake had been in opposite ice baths and, after a few minutes, the two of them had decided to start to have a water fight. Said Games Maker was alone in the room with the two of them as they began to throw the water from the ice baths across the room and at each other. Doubting his authority to make any comment, said Games Maker went outside to find the Jamaican team coach who had brought the athletes into the room. Upon finding the coach and telling her what was happening, said Games Maker was pretty shocked by her distinct lack of shock. Instead, the coach rolled her eyes, looking entirely unsurprised at the ice bath adventures of Bolt and Blake, walked calmly into the ice bath room and ordered them to ''stop or stay in the ice for 40 minutes''. Her response to their protests that they would freeze was simply, ‘’ I do not care’’. And so the Bolt and Blake ice bath adventures ceased.


After quite an extensive wait outside, we were let in to the infamous ‘Area 5’ of The Mall, where we were entertained until the Parade began by grannies in drag on scooters and a piano-playing nun. We were able to watch the start of the Parade on the big screen nearby and, in the pre-Parade wait, what shocked us all the most (other than the appearance of a swoosh of floppy blonde hair (aka Boris Johnson) right next to us and Eddie Izzard’s mission to shake every single one of our hands) was just how packed the streets of London were. Even the side streets, where you would probably be lucky to see the busses, let alone the athletes, were packed as far as you could see!



Jess 'Bus 3' Ennis

Anyway, our time came and the gates to The Mall opened and the athletes were greeted by lots of very excited Games Makers, who had all had a good two hours of TV coverage and Google-ing time behind them to work out who was on which bus. And, after having had slightly better phone internet than those around me, I am now left to wonder whether I will ever not remember ‘’Mo Farah- Bus 1, Jess Ennis- Bus 3, Chris Hoy, Victoria Pendleton and Sarah Storey- Bus 7, Tom Daley- Bus 8’’, after having repeated it so many times...



It was great to see so many signs thanking the Games Makers

The only way that I can describe the experience that followed was that it was a total sensory overload (obviously in the best possible way). It was just (probably to state the obvious) athlete, after athlete, after athlete and, to Team GB and Paralympics GB’s credit, medal, after medal, after medal. The woman next to me stood there, not knowing really what to say, and just repeating ‘well done, well done, well done’, to every single passing athlete, which summed it all up really, I think.


Chris 'Bus 7' Hoy and Sarah 'Bus 7' Storey

When the athletes reached Buckingham Palace, they were all brought up onto a stage on the Memorial and the concert began. According to my dad (who was watching on TV), it was started by Amy Macdonald, but I think there may have been technical difficulties as far as the speakers were concerned if this is the case... I did, however, see The Pet Shop Boys, The Noisettes and Katherine Jenkins, before David Cameron, Princess Anne, and Boris Johnson spoke.

Victoria 'Bus 7' Pendleton

Now, although I do greatly enjoy a bit of royalty, I have to admit that our Boris did steal the show in a pretty epic style (on the epic Boris moments scale, it surpassed the awkward Olympic handover flag wave in Beijing and was equalled only by the Boris-stuck-on-a-zip-wire-in-Victoria-Park-holding-two-Union-Jacks-live-internet-stream) with the most patriotically hilarious speech of the century, which left the entire Mall (and probably the surrounding areas of London) chanting his name.

After the chants had died down, the photographic challenge that was the fly-by began. I love watching planes (as my housemates will back me up on!) and, even if my photos do not do it any justice whatsoever (there’s a reason that the Mopper does a languages degree!), there was something pretty special/ British about getting bruised hips from leaning on railings on The Mall whilst watching the Red Arrows fly over Buckingham Palace...

I stayed around after the Parade until the athletes disappeared and the devastating line ‘’ we don’t want to, but we’re now going to have to end the Olympic TV coverage’’, was heard on TV sets across Great Britain. And, yes, I did see a tear from Seb Coe.

I then headed to Trafalgar Square, where the last thing I saw before heading to the train station was a couple of Games Makers spontaneously Irish dancing with Chinese tourists in front of the National Gallery. Olympic London, I love you.

I had a 1^st Class ticket for the way home because, for some reason, it had worked out cheaper than standard class, so, after using the Games Maker muscles to help an elderly couple with their bags, I went and sat in the lounge for a bit and watched the breaking news of Seb Coe running for BOA Head with lots of Games Makers, London Ambassadors and Team GB coaches.

Heartbreakingly, I then had to get on a train to go home and actually leave Olympic London. However, on the way back, I did something that would make our Boris swell with pride: I had a three hour long spontaneous conversation on public transport.